Summary: Can Tim ever really go home? Spoilers: through 5.2. Note: These characters are not mine.
Tim packed the last of his few belongings into his duffel bag and sat down on the cot, chin resting on his clasped hands.
Oddly enough, he'd kind of miss the Nest, where he didn't have to make many choices, just do his chores and shut his lights off by 10. He'd even made a few friends.
Then again, he'd be back with Billy, Mindy and Stevie. Oh, and Becky, who had moved into his old room.
Pretty ironic, he finally gets out of jail and the halfway house, and he still has nowhere to sleep.
Well, truth be told, it didn't matter. One thing jail had taught him was that he didn't need much, as long has he went to sleep and woke up with his mind and conscience clear.
And that really, he'd known that his whole life. In practice, it wasn't so easy.
He heard Becky's horn honking outside, and waved to her from the window. "Be right down," he yelled, giving her two thumbs up.
He practically skipped down the steps, chucking his bag in the back seat and sliding into the shotgun.
He beamed at Becky and chuffed out a big breath. "Free at last, Becks. Riggs is free at last!"
She was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. "C'mere," she said, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in for big wet kiss.
She opened the glove box and pulled out a pair of shades, handing them to Tim.
"Ray Bans. Sweet!," he said, putting them on. "I missed these."
Guess as things came back into his life, he'd realize how much he'd missed them.
He also realized this the minute they pulled up to his house and he saw his old black truck sitting in the driveway.
"There she is," he mumbled in deep voice. Yeah, he'd missed her, too. A lot.
Billy came outside carrying Stevie. He put the baby down and he ran over to Tim.
"Whoa! He's runnin' now? Christ, time flies." He got wistful, thinking of how much of Stevie growing up he'd missed. At least he was still just a toddler and he'd catch all the other good, and bad, stuff to come.
"Da-da!" Stevie yelled at Tim.
"Whoa, dude, that's your da-da, not me!" Tim laughed. He scooped him up and kissed his fat cheek several times quickly. "Uncle Timmy's home now, little man. He's gonna teach you the ways of the world!"
Mindy came out, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "God forbid," she snarked.
"Hey Uncle Tim, bout time you got home," she said, giving him a big hug. "Dinner's on in an hour."
Tim smiled. Even Mindy's relatively basic cooking was gonna be a treat, after so much canned spaghetti. He'd lost every ounce of the little body fat he had, and after working out so much, and doing physical labor, was more muscular than ever.
"Can I help you, Mins?," Becky asked.
"Nah, I got it kid, you guys go relax, wash up."
Billy was heading back inside when he yelled, "33. Heads up," and threw him something.
His keys on the 33 keychain. "Shit," Tim said, choking up. How many nights he'd lain in bed, in jail, picturing his keys sailing through the air into Billy's hands that day he'd gone in.
Symbolic of everything that'd gone wrong. The end of his reign as 33, badass fullback, state champ.
"Tim, I gotta show you somethin'," Billy said gruffly. "C'mere." He led Tim inside, down the hallway where his room used to be. He put his hand on the doorknob of the laundry room; one of Tim's old 33 jerseys hung on the door.
"What, d'you get a new washer?" Tim asked sarcastically.
Billy opened the door and waved him in.
"Ready?"
It was a new bedroom built out from the laundry room off the back of the house. "Your new digs, bro!," Billy said proudly. "Even got a separate door to outside so's you can come and go as you please, without worrying about Stevie."
"Geez, Billy, you built this? I… I don't know what to say." He was honestly touched. His Panthers jerseys and mementos decorated the room, which was spartan, but comforting nonetheless.
He also remembered that he still had to break the good news to Billy about their mom's plans to build a house on that lake property. Later, when things had settled.
He sat down on his new bed and dropped his head into his hands. He wished his hair were still long so Becky couldn't see him crying.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, just able to link her fingers together and squeeze him.
"You're home, Tim. Home." She never wanted to do whatever she could to protect him, never let him go.
And for at least an hour, she didn't. They just sat there, rocking gently, Tim sobbing with happiness.